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Today, though, was the day I conquered the beast – IE, sat in a Starbucks drinking passion tea (what else for an erotica author?
I became bored with the musical selections of the Carpenters, so I began singing a rousing, hillbilly-esque version of “You Shook Me All Night Long”. I was mad and went home, even though I had enough driving to do me for the weekend. I’m a single girl and I could seriously use the $$. that ran the gamut between begging me to come back, telling me that I’m ugly, to saying that he was calling an Asian hooker and he was going to send me video of their activities (this was the point when I blocked him, thank you i OS 7). It’s not like a have a dance card full of party invitations anyway… Over the period of time that we’ve seen each other, he said he didn’t think he was ready for a “relationship”, which I interpreted as meaning that he just didn’t want to be in a relationship with ME. She obviously makes bad decisions or she wouldn’t have ended up out on the streets in the first place. BD tells me that I am the only girl he talks to and the he really wants to have a “relationship” with me. why in the holy hell would she feel compelled to tell me that? We pushed some tables together, sat down and ordered drinks. If I believed in a god, I would tell you that god had blessed him immensely, we always have a good time, we have HOT sex and I genuinely like him. I suggest talking, counseling, trying to reconnect, etc… “There’s something else.” “Okay.” “I’m having an affair.” Well slap my ass and call me Fanny… I hate to judge people, I REALLY do and I try so goddamn hard not to… When we arrived at the bar it was pretty deserted and the vibe in the bar had just as strong of a 70s vibe as the rooms did, I loved it!The details haven’t been worthy of writing about anyway. And they were fucking good looking men and we were a table of 20-something nurses, already half lit. It turned out that there was a convention at the hotel of FIREFIGHTERS AND PARAMEDICS. There were firefighters and paramedics there from all over the world, with cameras and video cameras. I’ve made a few promises to friends that if I ever feel suicidal I’ll talk to them. Last week someone asked why I choose the subjects that I do for my photography (abandonments, specifically)… they’re rejected, unloved, forgotten, ignored, not as pretty as they used to be, no longer useful, haunted… Maybe, together, the camera and I can save a little bit of these places, for posterity… As we were drinking and doing shots, we noticed the bar filling up with MEN, just MEN.